Quitting to Win

Look at you slithering down to your deepest roots
Blaming everything you can for your constant bad Juju
And it seems like the violin strings are broken and stretched
The bow is arching slightly from the notes that've been violently etched

I listen to streams creating symphonies heard time after time
Going from sad heartbreaking numbers to mad, angry designs
All of which contain lines so painful as to reach out and touch
Oh how anyone could forgive you and hate the ones that fucked you up

It's almost as if you need them to assure yourself, my old friend
To excuse that demon from all the pain caused in every end
Or maybe you laugh to yourself watching them fall for your pretend
Cleverly twisting reality, bent is straight and straight is sometimes bent

It is ironic to say the least
You truly play a nice game
But see that's the thing about games
It ends when one decides not to play.